


Fig Leaves

by luvhandlz (lamardeuse)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/luvhandlz
Summary: Crowley has an angel on his shoulder and he wishes it would bloody get off.





	Fig Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> Lamardeuse here - this is written by my partner, who I'm a bit miffed has beaten me to the Good Omens fic bandwagon, but he's been in this fandom nearly three decades longer than I have, so I'm taking the L. Enjoy!

The screaming intensified, taking on a terrible raw quality. The agonies being suffered beggared belief. Crowley looked up at the sound of a chain saw coughing into life. It growled wetly in time with a medley of shrieks and moans.

“Brilliant,” said Crowley brightly. “That should do for the day.”

He turned off his tape recorder and walked into the conservatory. His eye slits narrowed as he surveyed his plants. “I trust we all had a good sessssion today.” Everything grew lush and verdant, not a spot or blemish anywhere. Humans were right; it paid to talk to your plants.

A few weeks before, as a motivational tool, he'd played the 'Fireplace For Your Home' programme twenty-four hours a day. Marvelous. 

Still, something nagged at him. He sauntered over to a ficus in a large green pot that was trying to look inconspicuous behind a philodendron.

“Is that a wilted leaf?” Crowley hissed. The plant leaked a stream of water from the base of its pot. The room and its contents waited in morbid terror.

Baleful yellow eyes surveyed the shrub and found it wanting.

“Right, you're for the chop.”

He meant that literally: it was going into the wood chipper he kept in the exercise room along with an unused rack and an iron maiden set. (He received the last two as housewarming gifts from some of the demons who'd had a whip-round when he bought the flat. There were also three identical fondue sets in harvest gold; they were demons, after all.)

The wood chipper was warmed up and waiting. And then there was a distant tinkling, as of gentle wind chimes, and a tiny angel popped into existence on the demon's shoulder.

The angel stared reprovingly at Crowley with his slightly poppy blue eyes.

“Not again,” groaned Crowley.

The angel looked meaningfully at the ficus, then back at Crowley. The whole angel-on-the-shoulder business seemed terribly cliché to Crowley. He was never sure if it really was Aziraphale or his own subconscious, but the fact that the angel never spoke, a seeming impossibility in itself, made him think the latter.

“Well, I hope you're happy.” Crowley turned off the wood chipper. The angel, looking smug, promptly disappeared.

Crowley slunk resentfully to the phone and stabbed the speed dial with a long finger. 

“What do you want, you foul fiend?” answered Aziraphale in an avuncular way.

“I have this plant...” Crowley trailed off.

“Another of your rejects?”

“Look, angel, it's your fault. Demons don't feel guilt, we cause it. But you keep popping up and waggling your finger and looking bloody – angelic.”

“It _is_ my job,” Aziraphale said reasonably.

“So...do you want the plant or not?”

“Well, bring it round the shop and we'll find it a lovely new home. Then to celebrate we can try this new bistro I've discovered recently. You can pay.”

“Yes, fine,” Crowley sighed, defeated but not as aggravated by it as he knew he should be. Either way, he would be rid of the plant. “I'm leaving now.”

“I shall await you with bated breath.”

“As if you need to breathe,” drawled Crowley as he hung up.

The Bentley started with a muted burble and a cloud of sulphur-tainted blue smoke. As the hell machine roared toward Soho, somewhere in the dash Lou Reed morphed into Freddie Mercury singing about how much he loved his car.

**Author's Note:**

> The [Fireplace for Your Home](https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/gadgets-and-tech/news/how-to-turn-your-tv-into-a-fireplace-netflix-home-logs-a6786296.html) show is actually on Netflix. Yes, I mean Netflix.


End file.
